How Do You Take A Tin Dog To The Vet?
by YouGottaSingAlong
Summary: Captain Jack Harkness acts 51st Century vet to a broken K9. And the continued stories of Jack - Boe - and his Mark II
1. The Vet

_I decided to write this drabble when watching School Reunion, a couple of hours ago (I'm really, really bored) and noticed that the Doctor states that, "in the year 5000, this was cutting edge."_

Sarah Jane leant over K9's once again broken form. "Damn you, Doctor, you can't just fix something can you? Some people fix something, and it stays fixed for a while."

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Jack tickled K9's chin, "A Mark III. He's adorable, I had a Mark II when I was a kid. Blast from the past or what?"

"Blast from the future, Captain."

"Ha, should have seen that one."

"Can you fix him? You're from the 51st century?"

Jack scratched his chin, "I might be able..." He flipped out a screwdriver and fiddled for a couple of minutes, "... to do something."

K9's head straitened up. Jack grinned scratching his side, "Good dog!"

"Affirmative."

_It's so short and random I'm not even going to ask you to review._


	2. Lesson 1: Tin Dog or Flying Lizard?

Title: How Do You Take A Tin Dog To The Vet...? and The Complete Care of a Tin Dog Manual

Chapter 2: Lesson 1 - Tin Dog or Flying Lizard

Author's Note: 500 words in length, the story itself. I'm going to try and make each of these around that, it's just for something to keep me writing through block.

Dedication: For **LilacFaLaBraue**who requested it a while back. I'm going to continue along Tin Dog just because it makes sense. Also **moonchild94**, I'll get back to you soon, also expect Rep#s next chapter within the next week for betaing :D but no hurry

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_A long time before/after HDYTATDTTV (beat that, Lucy :P )...._

"Boys!" Franklin called up the stairs to his sons, "Boe! Gray! Get those pretty boy faces down here; don't you guys know when it's your birthday? First one down gets the better present!"

Gray and Boe looked at each other eyes wide, after a moment of Western hesitation both boys dived for the door, landing on top each other as they crashed through it stumbling and rolling down the stairs. Yells of protest and muffled arguing in which neither boy knew what the other was saying – more a competition of volume than actual wording – were sustained from the attic of the house to the beige foam carpet of the foot of the stairs. By the time they hit their destination, Boe had his brother pinned down and scrambled back quickly beating his brother with a shout of glee by about five seconds into the living room.

"Dad?" Boe's carpet burned and pummelled face shone with excitement as he looked up at Franklin, Gray following him in, looking hopeful albeit beaten.

"Do I still get something, Dad? It wasn't my fault I came second, I slipped..." Gray trailed off as his father unveiled a small, perhaps half a foot in length with a larger wingspan, _Pteranodon occidentalis, _"That. Is. Totally. _Awesome_." The miniature flying reptile fluttered across to its new owner's hand. Gray grinned at his dad, before casting it into the air and chasing it to the kitchen yelling, "Thanks, Dad! You are so the best!"

Boe's eyes had barely departed from his father through the exchange of his little brother and the greying man. These was a slight rocking bounce in his stance, barely noticeable, but enough to vent some of his excitement at his own mystery gift. The Better Present. His was to be the better present.

"Boe," Franklin, like everyone else on the peninsula, just used his elder son's nickname, one syllable was easier than adding any more. He leant down next to a large box-ish shape, with a deformed protrusion coming from the front end. "Boe, this is brand new. Professor Marius just sent down the first fifty from K4068. It's a K-9 Mark II, really neat, this one got damaged in delivery but I thought one of you boys could make a project out of fixing it up."

He unveiled the robotic dog with a flourish, "Okay, one warning, Boefis," (okay, so perhaps sometimes he added a syllable onto his son's name), "K-9 here, is not a toy. He's very clever, can help you with your studies and you can mess with him and play with him – I hear he's very good at chess – but you are _not_ allowed to disintegrate your brother with his weaponry."

Boe's initial disappointment in the present's bulk and awkwardness when it had been revealed to him diappeared in a flash. "He has a gun?"

Franklin nodded, laughing at the renewed look of enthusiasm on his eight year-old son's face. "Yeah, Boe, he 'has a gun'."

"That. Is. Totally. _Awesome."_


End file.
